Florine

Sharing whatever words that come in my mind 🌙

[secretangel555-deactivated20250]

[cassielah]

One two three

Smoke screens. A drama wrapped in a hollow sweetness, an endless reduduncy of shallow love that never reaches the heart. A fake melody. A beautiful emptiness, the words like silk slipping through your fingers, painted in fragile colors, soft and pleasing, a broken melody humming in tune. A rambling, tangled mess of empty promises and borrowed lines, a masterpiece of false intimacy.

How simple, how painfully easy to repeat A B C D, over and over, for every face that floats by, each one a new audience. “Look at me” you say, casting glances, making them feel cherished, as if they were more than just another name to you. Do they know ? Do they understand you whisper the same lies to others, secretly quoting yourself, over and over again, making each one feel singular, precious? Your love is a mirror held up to yourself, a way to see your own performance reflected back, their affection given freely as applause. Now you're satisfied.

How does it feel, then, to be crowned with words of adoration ?

[cassielah]

Purgatory

An immovable body in the shower. The heat wraps around me like a suffocating blanket, heavy and unrelenting. My head spins, each breath thick and shallow, as if the steam is stealing the air from my lungs. Blurred vision, the world around me dissolving into nothingness. A tingling spreads from my fingertips to my legs, a faint hum turning into a violent buzz, weakening me entirely—a little more with every passing second. I cling to the last thread of control, teetering on the edge. I feel too hot, too cold, nauseous. The shower’s heat clings to me like a fever, making everything worse, pressing me down.

But leave me here, a few hours more, I feel good... I stopped eating just to feel less heavy, less alive. Let me be weaker; a need to be taken away is creeping in. I feel uncomfortable, but I want to let it take me in the same way. Like a comforting home that is killing me softly. Distortion of reality, a pity party...

The ambulance sirens are getting closer. Are they coming for me? Did you call them? My heart stirs with a fragile hope, a hand reaching out, a soft voice calling my name, pulling me from the dark. I imagine the warmth of your presence, the care in your eyes. Someone is coming to save me. A part of me clings desperately to that belief, as if salvation is only moments away. I imagine your hands cradling me, lifting me from this place, wiping away the steam and fear, whispering, "You're okay."

But the sirens fade, drifting into the distance. No one is coming. Slowly, reality returns, creeping in like a cold draft beneath a door. There is no "you." The image I held onto begins to fracture, cracks spreading through the illusion until it shatters completely. I'm alone in this quiet, empty room, with no hands to hold, no voice to call my name. The warmth I imagined turns to cold, the echo of the sirens a cruel reminder of the violent solitude around me.

I realize now, there's no one left to care. No one is worried. The silence deepens, swallowing me whole, as I lie here, far from beloved, far from anyone at all.

A last thread of control cut off, a final surrending.

[cassielah]

Last breath

The stars shine brightly tonight, and a fresh breeze dances upon my skin. Tears trace warm paths down my face, offering a strange comfort in this cold night. I search for meaning in my misery, as warm tears soothe my chilled skin, the release of emotions that rush and collide. They are both the mark of my deepest pain and my fleeting escape, relief wrapped in sorrow.

The moon is here too, she's whispering that darkness often reveals a hidden beauty, just as it reveals her soft, silvery glow. I wonder why, instead of receiving something as luminous as the moon to reward my darkness, I find only a fragile comfort, as if I'm deluding myself into believing this is the light born from my pain. The poison often has its antidote nearby, they say. But no matter how hard I search, nothing seems worthy enough to heal this ache.

My tears dry swiftly, leaving only cold, salty skin in their wake. I've waited all night for someone to save me. Nothing and no one holds me back. I can let myself drift away, a final breeze, a last breath.

[cassielah]

I wish there was someone here to hold me.

Gentle arms full of empathy and comprehension. Someone who loves me and only wants to see me being okay.

A selfless love, a soothing comfort to let myself immerse in without fearing burdenning them with my pain.

I wish I didn't need to face everything alone.

Do people like that exist? I'm losing hope.

All I have is people who makes me feel unheard. I keep breaking my voice in hope that I would be understood once. Words on repeat like a cassette tape that plays in a loop, a broken recorder that makes people grimace as they hear its high pitch noises. I'm feeling drained at every word that comes out of my mouth, but I keep trying like a baby crying to get their moms attention but gets yelled at instead.

How dare I have feelings when their feelings exist already, I am simply a burden. A broken doll that no one wants to hear and look at. I don't understand why. I just want to speak my truth, I just want you to see me, to love me.

But I find myself crying alone in my room again, left voiceless and still not understood. Like the little girl once I was. I failed her. She wished the same as me but here we are, in the same tourment of solitude, no one caring about what my heart is enduring.

[quotefeeling]

“I’d much rather have one great person to talk to every night than have several pointless conversations with temporary people.”

— Unknown

[a-hymnforher]

I choose silence.

Because I write too much, and it means nothing. What is this if not a futile and weak attempt to mould something inexplicable, invisible into something that could be seen.

I don't know which is worse, what's said or what desperately refuses to leave your throat, paralyzing the tongue. If I had to choose, I'd say both are equally unjust.

If you say it out loud, it still can't measure up to what your heart wanted to convey. How tragic. That's why I prefer loving people in silence, their faces tell you the story their words could never. When they laugh with their whole heart, I don't need words to understand their joy. When they hold on to me and cry their pain out, I don't need words to fathom their pain.

And when I join in on their laughter, and when I hold them tight to caress gently, they don't need words to KNOW the depth of love my heart holds for them.

Words woven together in beautiful patterns, telling tales of exquisite love and gut wrenching partings are GRAND, yes.

But, isn't my Love for you even Grander? Greatest of it all.

I'd rather let my soul seep out through the cracks of my skin and pour into your heart all the emotions I have for you.

That's why, I choose silence.

[cassielah]

Agony

I wonder wich hurts the most , the bruises you gave me on my body or the ones you gave me on my heart?

I feel weak and worthless because of your gaze. My body has became a painted canva, colored with the deepest blue and a dirty yellow from the past (brush)strokes. Seeing myself in the mirror is comparable to looking at an old damaged object we used to love as a kid but can only be disgusted by it in the present.

Why me ? I am not responsible for the anger in you. Do I look so fragile and non human for you to feel no guilt from striving life away from me? Do I really deserve this? I didn't know existing would be the cause of your agony. I didn't ask to be alive so please have mercy. Why am I even trying, in front of your amused eyes watching me beg, my pain is your relief.

The bitter iron taste of blood in my mouth is making me scared to swallow. I only want to throw everything up. I never want to let something infects me from inside again, like your words did to my soul.

May the night take away the remaining life I have in me; so I can stop wishing that your hit is the last one, as I do each time. At least I would die on my own instead of dying from your last stroke. I don't want my hell to be the last thing I know before giving my last breath.

Lord, give me one bit of happiness while dying, let me know what it feels like to be in heaven on Earth, during the last seconds I'm still here, that's all I'm asking, please.

[cassielah]

My World Collapsed

The never-ending noises of the World are haunting me. I keep hearing the most nauseating words. You are complaining constantly about the most absurd things, complaining about being loved and worried for. God forbid you need to put efforts yourself to give back that love that is being given to you through simple actions.

I've abandonned my darkest yet comfiest parts of myself so I can keep loving you.

I understand you're tired of living. But what about me, tearing apart everyday, trying to survive while feeling like passing through scratching branches mutilating my soul, at each breath I take ?

I feel like a lost soul in the forest, going through the toughest paths; bare feet, blood and dirt making me dirty on the way. I'm hurt a little more at every steps I take. Only in order to find my way to you so you won't be alone.

I keep breathing in this suffocating room, my nose is clogged from the smoke, my eyes are asking to burst, my brain keeps yelling to be turned off. I can barely move, I have no escape but for you, I remain.

I've been bearing the insufferable pain that makes me want to throw up as soon as I wake up and while trying to sleep.

As if I was never a reason for you to stay, another pet insect to give love when you happen to think about it. That's how I feel when I hear you telling me why you want to go. This superficial justification is apparently taking over your love for me. I'm not enough for you to want to live. I thought I was that important for once, but you have other priorities, this is maybe selfish from me ? I apologize, trully. But how should I feel when I keep fighting in order to survive, so you can have a shoulder to cry on; so I don't add another weight on your heart by passing away; only for you to give up on me at such a ridicule reason.

I've been surviving through hell for nothing. I've been swallowing my tears ,hurting my throat and letting my lungs being damaged, for nothing.

I've burned myself simply to warm you up and you, just gave up.

[a-hymnforher]

I want to write,

I wish to color pages with ink before they get drenched in my blood. When my heart is beating too fast I wish for words to catch up with my feelings before my feelings find their way to my soul and completely, absolutely, consume my being. Leaving me helpless. Defeated.

But the struggle to get these verses out, drowns me in those emotions even more. Running away from them is acknowledging their clutch on my lungs, making it harder to breathe. But something that keeps me human can't be a curse to my existence. Right?

If that is the case, is it okay to drop the quill and pick up the knife instead? Would that be cowardly? To give in, to choose crimson death over Blue verses for once?

I am so tired. Well, no matter.

Blood comes easier than words after all.

[agathajadex]

the sun burns my soul

and my skin is red

as the blood that runs

through my veins

and as the anger

that makes my heart beat.

[wedarkacademia]

Andrea Gibson

[lemondropsandchimney]

I write, because I talked to people and they belittled my feelings.

[cassielah]

"My darling, you will never be unloved by me. You are too well tangled in my soul."

It’s you that came to my mind while reading it. It’s obviously you. After crashing my existence with yours, making the entirety of my cells work only in favor of living to love you, who else could it be? My soul has merged with yours; I cannot be if you're absent. My love for you has crossed all the limits of my broken heart. You made love possible again after I thought my soul was too damaged to love selflessly. It's you that I want to live for.

If I could, I would be the air that you need when you feel like you're suffocating. I would be the gentle wind that caresses your face and makes you feel at ease. I would be the ground you walk on to make sure you are safe on the way home. I would be the water that you need when all your tears have parched you. Just for you to be safe, I would be anything you need.

For you, I'm okay with being forgotten, as long as you are happy. Facing my biggest fear for you to smile again would be the biggest sacrifice I'm ready to make. I would live for you to breathe. I would do anything for you to never shed a tear of sadness again. But oh God, I would never unlove you. That is the limit that can never be crossed; you are too well entangled in my soul.

[cassielah]

I'm thirsty

It's past midnight, and I'm on the floor. It's cold, the coldest I've ever felt. Is it the night's temperature showing itself in objects, or is it my soul evading and mixing its coldness with the night's cold breath?

I crawl to reach somewhere. I feel exhausted, and I'm not sure why I'm still fighting. I'm hopeless, but I'm thirsty. My throat has dried out; all the fluids I possessed have drained away in my blood, sweat, and tears, which I've used to slide on and make my path easier.

I don't know why I'm here, except for the fact that I'm thirsty. My body has started to give up. I feel my veins drying; it stings, as if instead of blood, there is glass that fills me, and every breath I take makes it move, slightly scratching me inside. My head is hurting. I don't feel it anymore; I only feel a formless pain that I can't differentiate from the room. I’ve lost my senses, but I feel it. I'm thirsty.

I don't remember who I am. I can only remember the taste of my own blood, the pain that I hold, and the fear that I have. It's dissipating as I continue to crawl. I don't know where I'm going, but I feel the need to go. Everything starts to merge together. What was once a cold floor is now only coldness. My headache is only pain. My breath is only a flow that causes pain. My suffering body is now only a transparent being stuck in a mix of pain and peace.

I feel myself falling as I give up. I can't move anymore. I can only sink, sink into the darkness of my own being, an helpless soul that has forgotten itself, but still feels the pain of who I was, torn between suffering and peace as I let myself, or should I say sense something that feels like an "I", being ripped apart by both.

[remanence-of-love]

[bl00dfroma-fairy]